Strictly Business
by everlovingdeer
Summary: I raised my eyes to his, narrowing them when I saw the amusement dancing in his gaze. "I'm not going to be swayed by you." "Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow, his grin becoming more sly, "Prove it."
1. Strictly Business

Working as a healer was a rewarding job – everyone knew that. Bringing a patient back from the brink of death, was always the most gratifying thing I could have chosen to do with my life. And I had never thought that I would find myself working somewhere other than St. Mungo's.

But here I was, appointed as the new team healer for the Montrose Magpies. It had seemed like it would have been fun, but that was before I remembered just how prone quidditch players were to getting injured. And, as the only team healer, they were _all_ my responsibility. Merlin, if that wasn't frightening. Maybe when I was a little further along, I could speak to the manager about hiring another healer because with the number of players – from both first team and reserves – the numbers were bordering on 30 and that was just too many people for me to handle on my own.

But I pushed the thought aside for now and instead focused on the current quidditch player who was standing in front of me, on the scale. The players were all to report to my office which was tucked away in the corner of their training ground, for a general fitness check. Recording the weight of the player and his muscle to fat ratio, I allowed him to return to his training.

"Oh, and Mr Maddock," I called out after the chaser who turned back to me with a slightly sheepish grin. He knew what I was going to say already, "The diagnostic spell brought up your weak knee again, and I know it's difficult to do but please try not to fall on that knee again? You might find yourself unable to play for the rest of the season. And well, seeing as the season hasn't officially started yet, you might not want that to happen."

"Merlin knows Campbell would kill me," he agreed, shuddering at the thought of the team's rather frightening manager. "I'll take your advice, is there anything else?"

I briefly glanced down at the patient chart clipped to my clipboard, and shook my head. "That looks like that's it. Please send the next player in," I said with a smile.

He nodded, ducking out of my office as I placed his patient chart in his medical folder. I shook my head, looking through his chart; why did they all have so many broken bones? Merlin, their captain was the worst; he seemed to think it was some sort of accomplishment that he had broken the majority of the bones in his body at least once. Honestly, they acted so tough and brushed off a broken bone like it was nothing but the moment you asked them to drink a Skele-gro potion, they turned into babies. Men.

Getting another clear patient chart, I attached it to my clipboard as the next player walked into the room. I kept my back to him as I rummaged through my potions drawer to find more of the potions used to test their blood sugar levels.

"If you don't mind making yourself comfortable," I said absentmindedly, "I'll be with you in a moment."

Pulling the potions out of the drawer with a triumphant grin, I pushed my glasses further up my nose and turned back to my newest patient. I took one look at the man sitting down, waiting for the examination to begin, and recognised him from our time at Hogwarts. Without asking him for confirmation, I filled out his name at the top of the form.

"So, Mr Davies," I started conversationally, rounding the desk to lean against it. "This isn't your first check up since you've joined the team so you already know what it entails. I'm going to run some very basic tests on you and get a basic idea of your overall fitness."

"Go ahead, Sanford," he responded, recognising me too. He grinned up at me and I rolled my eyes when our gaze met. "I'm at your mercy."

"We'll start with some questions about your lifestyle," maintaining the professional tone to the meeting, I cleared my throat, "According to your medical history you've had all of the necessary jabs and potions that you're required to take, but have you had the booster jabs and potions?" He nodded and I noted it down quickly. "Are you still a non-smoker? Ok, good. And your weekly alcohol consumption?"

"My tolerance hasn't increased since we were at Hogwarts." I couldn't help but laugh a little, remembering how often he had gotten so smashed following one of the after quidditch parties and had needed help walking up the stairs to his dorm room.

"So practically non-existent then," I teased.

"That sounds about right," he grinned back, and rose to his feet when I gestured for him to do so.

"Step onto the scale for me." He followed the instruction well and I wrote the number down before running a spell on him to generate his muscle to fat ratio. My quick-quotes quill noted the number down and I peered down at it, eyebrows rising. "You've put on muscle since your check up last year."

"I worked hard to," he said, stepping off from the scale, "it makes me more handsome, don't you think?"

"I just hope you're doing it in a healthy way," I remarked, without responding or commenting on the gradually flirtatious tone that was creeping into his voice. He never learned, did he?

Walking back to my desk, I opened a new packet that contained a sterilised needle and he held out his hand for me before I could ask. Pricking the end of his finger, I let a few drops of his blood fall into two separate potions; one to check his cholesterol level and one to check his blood pressure.

Whilst the potions started to work, I magicked my tape measure out of the drawer and approached him in silence. I took a measure of his waist, ignoring the way he was staring down at me. Davies was just waiting to say something to shatter the silence.

And just like I knew he would, he spoke, "The number of my fans that would die to be this close to me, but here you are, completely unaffected. Merlin Sanford, you've always been bad for my ego – ever since we met."

"Well that's just because I'm not your fan – Maddock's more my type."

Davies frowned but said nothing as I wrote down the measurement and checked on the potions. Everything was normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

"That looks like it's it," I said with finality. I expected him to leave my office just as the other players had but he hung around, looking for something to say. "Yes?"

"How did you end up working here anyway?"

I raised an eyebrow, "I applied, what else?"

"But when we were at Hogwarts you were going to go on to create medicinal potions?" He was quick to add, "Not that I'm not happy to see you again."

"I decided that I preferred this." I shrugged, "But what about you? Weren't you going to go off and work for the ministry?"

"Well someone told me to do what I want, rather than what's expected of me."

Smiling slightly, I lowered my eyes to the clipboard in my hands, pretending to be engrossed in the chart. "Well, that someone's glad you listened to them."

* * *

Quidditch games were unnecessarily rough. There was really no necessity for the players to be flung off their brooms and plummet to the ground, only to reappear on their brooms somehow. The players on the team were especially careless when it came to their health and as I watched Maddock fall of his broom, I prepared to deliver the dreaded call that he wasn't to play for the rest of the season. But, in an instant, one of the other players caught him on his broom and flew Maddock back to his waiting broom.

I rolled my eyes as I watched, counting in my head the number of players who'd need to pay a visit to the healer's bay that was hidden deep in the stadium. Right now, the two beaters were barely keeping themselves in one piece and were bound to be waiting for me in the ward when I got there. There was also the seeker who'd taken a rather dangerous looking bludger to the head. I had tried to tell the manager that he needed to come off the pitch in case he had a concussion but all he had done was call a timeout for me to check if the seeker did have a concussion. He hadn't. And that was why he was back onto the pitch.

My eyes strayed to the chaser who flew towards the opponent's goal posts, body practically touching the broom as he tried to avoid the bludgers that were being flung his way. Davies threw the quaffle and just as it left his hand, he took a bludger to the side. The force of it almost threw him from his broom but he held on tight, righting himself and flying back into the thick of it.

One of the seekers caught the snitch and the whistle was blown, the game came to an end. I rose to my feet, not sticking round to see who won the match. Walking down the stands, I headed inside the stadium and made my way to the healer's bay where the healer from the opponent's team was already setting up.

Pulling my wand from my pocket, I levitated my things out from my medical bag which was already waiting for me in the ward. I did a quick count of the potions and ingredients, making sure that I had everything I needed because you never knew how serious a seemingly small injury could be.

"That was a good game," the other healer said, interrupting me as I checked everything over.

"You're saying that as if we were the one playing," I said with a smile, taking my gasses out of my pocket and putting them on. I raised a potion to my eyes so I could read the label before setting it aside.

"Quidditch is much too exciting for me," he confided, "That and my vertigo is extreme."

I winced, "It's probably better for you to avoid anything to do with heights then."

"Which is a shame, because I love quidditch," he said with a little laugh and I found myself smiling at the sound.

"Doesn't everyone?" He didn't get the chance to answer the question as the players were brought into the ward; some on their own feet, others being carried in by members of the team.

What was the point of getting so injured over a game? Surely they valued their health more than this? We, the two healers, stayed close, watching with equally disapproving expressions as the players from our teams were brought in because it really was extremely disappointing when you kept fixing someone up but they only returned even more broken.

Just as I had predicted, the two beaters were being helped into the room by two players each and I silently pointed to the empty beds. The beaters grinned rather bashfully and I rolled my eyes before looking to Davies who was the last to walk into the room. His eyes scanned the room and once they landed on me, they shifted to the healer by my side and eyed him dirtily.

I frowned but said nothing. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I approached the two beaters. But before I dealt with them, I cast a diagnostic charm on the four players that had escorted them inside and only when I was certain that they were healthy, did I sent them on their way.

"Right," I muttered as I stared down at the results from the diagnostic charm that I cast on the beaters.

Between the two of them, they have 3 broken arms, one broken leg, two hairline fractures and one extremely angry looking cut on the one unbroken arm. I could only wonder how they'd gotten the cut.

"I'm afraid it looks like you're going to be dealing with an extra-large dose of Skele-gro for the both of you." The two men winced and I paid them no heed as I poured out the dosage and handed it to each of them in a smaller vial. "Well, what are you waiting for? Drink it up. Jones, it looks like I'm going to have to knock up some of that bruise draught for you to apply to _both_ of your black eyes and Simons, I'm going to have to clean and stitch your cut up."

Before I went to make the draught, I spelled casts to appear on the broken limbs. Taking one last look at the casts, I headed off to make the bruise draught, I shot a curious glance at Davies who matched me turn the cauldron on.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I asked as I followed the relatively simple recipe before leaving the potion to simmer on a low heat.

"I'm just waiting for my turn to see you." He settled down on an empty bed and I frowned, eyes scanning over his form.

"What's the problem Davies?"

"I think that bludger that hit me, broke my rib."

"Merlin, what is it with quidditch players and broken bones?" I muttered before saying in a louder voice, "Let me just give Simons the stitches and I'll come and check on you in a second. If you're not in too much pain?"

"Yes ma'am, I can cope with it for a while," he muttered, making himself comfortable as I bottled up enough of the bruise draught and set it on the desk beside Jones' bed. "Right, one dose is to be taken three times a day for a week. And both of you are on bed rest for the rest of the week. Is that understood? Good. Now Simons, let's take a look at your arm."

Sitting down beside the bed, I cast a charm to sterilise the large gash on his arm. I still had no idea how he'd gotten it but I didn't ask as I stitched the cut up with a needle and thread. Unfortunately, there was no magical way to do it yet and so I took my time to make sure I did it properly. It needed to heal properly or else Campbell was going to come for my head. I wrapped it with gauze just in case.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I rose to my feet and prepared to deal with my last patient. Davies was already waiting patiently when I reached his bed and a diagnostic spell told me that he his assumption had been correct.

"Looks like you were right Davies," I said with a frown, "It is a broken rib. You're going to have to have some skele-gro too. But I need you to take your shirt off quickly so I can see if it's started to bruise or not."

I helped divest him of his shirt before he could protest, not that he did. Sure enough, the skin around the broken area had already started to bruise. Turning my back to him, I poured out some skele-gro into a smaller vial –

"Sanford, do you think it'd be weird if we went out sometime?" he asked the question offhandedly. "Like on a date?"

Instead of answering him, I handed him the smaller vial of skele-gro, "Drink it."

Once he had drunk the potion, I pressed my fingers gently against the bruising and he hissed. With a frown, I bandaged his chest up just to stop it from brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

"Ice the bruised area for a few minutes, and the bandage isn't necessary but I've done it to stop there from being any discomfort when you're wearing a shirt." I glanced contemplatively at the cauldron that was still half full of the bruising draught. "And I'm going to give you some of the draught to speed up the recovery process – but only enough for a few days."

Walking away from him I started to bottle up some more of the draught. "Sanford," he said gently, "Did you hear what I said?"

"I did and I hoped you were going to take the hint when I refused to comment," I admitted with a sigh as I turned back to face him. "Look Davies, let's just keep our relationship as being a strictly business relationship."

* * *

"Oh my god," I groaned at yet another knock on my door. Dropping my head into my hands, I muttered an oath to Merlin, asking him to give me strength because if the person on the other side of the door was who I thought it was, then only Merlin himself would be able to save him from meeting the end of my wand.

There was another knock on the door and I let out a deep breath, pushing away from my desk and heading towards the door. Sure enough, on the other side was a grinning Roger Davies. With a sigh, I stepped aside and gestured for him to step into my office. He made himself comfortable on the patient examination table and I clenched my jaw in annoyance.

Since the last quidditch match – the one where I had gently rejected him – he had turned up at my office at least twenty times this week. So far, he was averaging a total of 4 trips to my office during each of the team's 6-hour training sessions.

"Alright," I crossed my arms as I approached the bench he was sat on, "I'll pretend that you're actually injured and ask you what's wrong? Is it something legitimate like the time you somehow managed to land on your head after you fell and I needed to check if you had a concussion? Or is it something completely ridiculous like the stomach ache that you faked yesterday?"

"I'm offended." He clutched at his chest, and still the smile wouldn't leave his face. He thought he was so smart, but really, he was reminding me of how the first years used to act when they experienced what it was like to have a crush for the first time. "Do you think that I'd be so irresponsible to fake an injury and waste the time of the team's only healer, when it's very likely that someone with a real injury might walk through that door and need your assistance?"

"Truthfully?" Even I was finding it hard to keep a straight face; he peered up at me with doe eyes, "Yes I do. You can't fool me Davies – we were in the same year, remember? I know exactly what you're like."

"Of course I do – you were forced to be my potions partner one too many times." He chuckled as if remembering a fond memory, "Remember the time when I added something to the potion and it exploded on your face."

"Yes I remember." I scrunched my nose as though I could still smell the foul stench that had erupted from the potion. The whole thing had been my fault – I had forgotten to tell him that I had already added the lavender to the potion and when he added it too, the potion had exploded as a result of the large quantity. "My eyebrows fell off and you burst out laughing, like a complete dickhead."

"Hey," he pouted, as if he was offended, "I took you to the hospital wing, didn't I? I even carried your stuff for you."

"Only because it looked like I was going to cry."

"Well that's my weakness," he gave me a grin, looking up at me. Against my will, I found my smile fleeing as the atmosphere grew more serious. "A woman's tears are enough to make any man do something."

I cleared my throat, looking pointedly down at him, "So what's the injury this time then?"

"I have a splinter," he said with a sheepish smile.

My lips parted in shock, "You're not being serious? You came to me for a splinter?"

"The thing is," he started hesitantly as I rummaged through one of the small drawers and managed to find a pair of tweezers. "I managed to break my broom and you know how there's magic infused in the wood used for a broom? Apparently that can spread and it's better to let a qualified healer take care of it."

"Merlin," I muttered with a roll of my eyes as I magically moved my chair so it was in front of the bed he was sitting on. Sitting down I held out my hand and Davies set his hand in it. Sure enough, there was the splinter in the palm of his hand. "How the hell did you break your broom?" I grumbled as I put my glasses on.

"It really _was_ an accident," he said quietly, watching me as I managed to pull out the splinter with minimal trouble. "I can't believe I'm going to have to buy a new broom."

"Serves your right for showing off." Grabbing my wand, I checked to see if any of the magic from the wood had transferred into him. "It looks like you're fine – there's no residual magic."

"That's good." He cleared his throat, watching as I pocketed my glasses again. "Why don't you wear your glasses all the time?"

"I'm only supposed to wear them when I'm reading or doing something where I need to focus a lot – like removing splinters." Rising to my feet, I put my chair back in its place, "Why?"

"It gives a whole new level to the whole sexy healer thing you've got going on," he said with a cheeky grin and I shook my head; I should have seen it coming.

Without a comment, I pointed at the door, "Get back to training."

"Fine, I can take a hint," he rose to his feet and headed towards the door, "But don't expect me to be gone for too long."

"Merlin Roger," I breathed out, dropping the formality I'd enforced between us, "Why can't you just stop this ridiculousness? Just go after one of your fans and sweep them off their feet. What reason do you have to keep doing this to me?"

"Because I lacked the courage to do it when we were in school," he said easily with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders. "I wanted to kick myself a million times for not doing it when we were in school and now, when I've been given a second chance, I'm not planning on letting it slip between my fingers."

Lowering my eyes to my desk, I steeled my voice, pretending that I hadn't been affected by his sudden declaration, "Well, I don't plan on budging."

"Really?" I could hear the grin in his voice, "Because neither do I."

I raised my eyes to his, narrowing them when I saw the amusement dancing in his gaze. "I'm not going to be swayed by you."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow, his grin becoming more sly, "Prove it."

* * *

There was an injured quidditch player waiting for me in my office by the time I returned to my office, having taken a quick break. The short relief I felt when I recognised that the player wasn't Roger was short lived. It was replaced with worry when, at the sound of my footsteps, the player turned towards the door and my eyes narrowed onto the blood that stained his uniform shirt. My mouth parted in shock, healer instincts kicking in as I rushed into the room, approaching him.

"Merlin," I breathed out, seeing the hand the seeker had pressed to the wound in an attempt to stop him. "What the hell did you do Alistair?"

"I fell from my broom," he muttered a little sheepishly, and I narrowed my eyes at him, helping him out of his shirt so I could get to the wound.

"That must have been some fall," I muttered under my breath, heading to my potions draw and locating some of my blood replenishing potion. Throwing it towards him, I watched him tipped it down his throat and sighed, "You should have called me."

"I didn't want to bother you," he protested and I made sure that he could see me roll my eyes as I walked closer to him, to cast an antiseptic charm to disinfect the wound and cleaned it with another quickly muttered spell. He didn't even wince and instead he cast a quiet scourgify on his hand to clear off the dried blood. I crouched down in front of him, starting to sew the wound up.

Merlin, if only I had known how much sewing becoming a team healer involved before I had applied for the job.

"Healer Sears?" Alistair started cautiously as I continued to give him his stitches.

"Yes?"

"Why are you dragging this thing with Roger out for so long?"

I glanced up sharply at the unexpected question. Ducking my head to look at his wound again, I said, "Alistair, I'm currently stitching you up and normally a patient would ask how long it'll take to recover, they wouldn't be enquiring about my love life."

"You didn't exactly answer my question," he pointed out knowingly.

"Look – I'm the sort of person that likes to disappear into the background and the number of cameras that follows quidditch players around isn't something I like." I shrugged slightly, "Dating a quidditch player will bring those unnecessary cameras into my life."

"So, you'll just let some publicity get in the way of you dating Roger?" He peered down at me curiously, "Even though you like Roger?"

"Even though I like Roger," I agreed without thinking. Realising what I had admitted, I glanced cautiously up at him.

"Don't worry," he assured me with a boyish grin, "I'll keep your secret."

"See that you do," I muttered, trying and failing to stop the red on my cheeks from blooming further. "Now just sit there and worry about your health like a regular paitent.2

"But I'm no regular patient," he said as I finished stitching him up. "Being hurt is part of the job description and well – if you give me a dosage of that wonderful potion that makes injuries heal quicker then I should be better in a couple of days."

Shaking my head as I rose to my feet I couldn't help but mutter, "I shouldn't give you any – that way you'll learn to be more careful."

I reached for the bandages, preparing to wrap the wound as he remarked cheerfully, "But you'll give it to me anyway – because I'm cute."

Rolling my eyes, I ruffled Alistair's hair who laughed at the action. Alistair at 18, was the youngest seeker on the team and had been recruited the moment he had left school. The other members of the team had a problem with me babying him but I didn't care, especially when the entire team treated him like a kid too..

"You're lucky you're cute," I muttered as I started to wrap the bandages around his chest. "Keep this covered for 24 hours and then unwrap it – let it breath."

"Yes ma'am," he mock saluted me, just as there was an obnoxious cough from the doorway.

Roger stood in the doorway, looking between me and his still shirtless teammate in suspicion. He stepped into the room, approaching the bed and glancing down at Alistair who was suddenly doing his best to not even look in my direction. I frowned.

"What's going on?" He glanced at me for an explanation and I oddly felt like a wife who had been caught having an affair.

"Nothing, Alistair was just being a cheeky bugger," I explained, walking towards my potions drawer to get Alistair a dosage of the potion he had requested. "What are you doing here?"

Alistair took the outstretched potion and drank it quickly. Sliding off the bed, he grabbed his shirt and hurried towards the door.

"Wait," I protested, throwing a glare at Roger when I noticed the glower he was throwing at Alistair's back. "Let me just check –"

"I'm fine," he assured me from over his shoulder as he left the room.

Turning back to face Roger, I stared up at him with crossed rms. His face was the picture of innocence and I pursed my lips. "Are you happy? You've just chased my patient out of my door because of your petty jealousy."

"I didn't say I was jealous," he protested.

"You didn't have to." Drifting past him, I started to clean up, "So, are you injured? Or did you just feel like dropping by for a social call?"

"Something like that," he agreed, catching me by surprise. He wasn't even bothering to make up excuses anymore?

Turning back to face him, I found him rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "What if I told you that there was a way we could go on a date without press ever finding out?"

"Why would that affect anything?" My words were quiet as suspicion filled me. How had he known –

"I mean, you tell me." Looking away from me with crossed arms, he cleared his throat, "It's not like you've been saying no because you don't like me. You've even said aloud that you _do_ like me."

"Roger Davies," I hissed, crossing the space between us to slap his arm. "You were listening in on our conversation, weren't you?"

He didn't deny it. "I'm taking that as a yes."

"One date," I agreed through clenched teeth, "But only to prove to you what a bad idea this is."

* * *

It didn't stop at one date. One date turned into two. Two turned into three. And by the time I reached ten, I stopped keeping count. Knowing Roger like I did, I just knew that it was taking some a colossal amount of restrain to stop himself from reminding me that he had been right. Or maybe it was just his knowledge that I might have even broken up with him on the spot, had he brought it up.

The team were currently preparing to begin one of their usual training sessions and were being led through their warm up exercises by their manager. I sat on the stands, waiting for one of the players to inevitably become injured. My eyes moved to the only other people sat in the stands; a reporter who had been given the exclusive right to peek into one of the team's training sessions and the photographer he brought along with him.

A broom appeared in my vision, taking me by surprise. My eyes snapped back to the man who hovered casually in front of me. Roger glanced over his shoulder, glancing over at the reporters. He turned back to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Should I be jealous?" he teased and I rolled my eyes.

"No, you shouldn't. You already get jealous of ridiculous things – there's no need to add this to the list."

He pouted a little, "It's a legitimate reason, you spend most of your day around shirtless quidditch players."

"The only time there's shirtless if when I need to deal with a wound on their chest," I reminded him, crossing one leg over the other. "And in those circumstances, I can't exactly say that their muscles are the most prominent thought on my mind."

"So, you do look then." His jealousy this time was fake, as was the insecure edge he added to his voice. I saw through the attempt to keep talking to me – no doubt he had told the manager that he was coming to me to discuss some symptoms and wanted to make the most use of his time.

"Well, I am a woman. It's only natural to admire something if it's been put out there on display."

His answering frown was very real and I reached out to smoothen some of his hair back from his eyes. Half way through the gesture I caught the camera that was busy snapping pictures of our interaction and instead of brushing his hair back, I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead as if I was trying to get a gauge of his temperature. Roger's eyebrow rose quizzically.

"The reporter's busy taking our pictures," I explained, bringing my hand back to my side. "We can't look too close."

"We could," he protested, "But you're still too worried to let news of our relationship out. Merlin woman, there'd be no need to sneak around if we told the press or even just the team."

"We've talked about this before," I muttered with a sigh.

"I just think you should think about it again." Roger waved away his captain who called out to him. "I'm being honest here – hiding this is really stressful. And do you not get jealous when the groupies throw themselves at the team? I push them away – you know I do – but they wouldn't even try it if they knew I was taken."

"Yes, they would." I rolled my eyes. "You know they would."

"Alright I'll give you that," he muttered begrudgingly, "But, do you really not get jealous?"

"Of course I don't." Shrugging slightly, I explained, "You left all of your playboy-ness back in Hogwarts and besides you know that if you ever even thought of cheating on me then you'd be in trouble." He gave a long-suffering smile, making me smile. "Especially with my extensive medical knowledge."

"I was never a playboy," he called out as the team's manager called out his name. He started to fly back down to the pitch – but did it incredibly slowly.

"Yes, you were. How many times did you get caught in the rose bushes? Or trying to sneak into the toilets with your random hook up? Face it Davies, you were a real skirt chaser."

"Well you've made an honest man out of me," he declared loudly, throwing me an air kiss.

I giggled a little before freezing. Looking across the stand, I let out a breath of relief when I realised that the photographer was too busy adding more film to his camera and had missed the motion and the reporter, well his quill was lying at the bottom of the pitch. Talk about a close call.

My eyes drifted back to the team and groaned. The reporter might not have seen it but every single member of the team had and they were all grinning cheekily up at me. I forced myself to remain neutral faced, even as the team took to the sky and slapped Roger cheerfully on the back, as they went.

* * *

According to Mr Campbell this was the most important match of the season. Although, according to him, every match was the most important match of the season. But no-one questioned it and I sat by his side as the two teams took to the sky to begin the match. The whistle was blown and Alistair moved instantly, getting higher in the air to get a broader view of the pitch. The quaffle, thrown into the air by the referee, was caught by Roger who the moment the ball was tucked against his chest, few towards the goal posts. Shielded from the incoming bludgers by the team's beaters defensive play, he arrived by the goal posts in the blink of an eye. The first goal was scored effortlessly.

But the score tied up quickly. It was going to be a close match. Or rather it had seemed that way until the players had shared some secret sign and their form of playing had been switched out. They swapped from playing more defensively, to becoming more aggressive in their attacks. I sighed into my hands, already doing a mental count of the number of broken bones and fractures that I was going to have to heal once the game had finished. Merlin, I just prayed that there would be no deep cuts, or any blood to deal with.

The teams tactical play was pulling off – the gap between the scores was increasing and it bought Alistair the time he needed to continue his search for the ever-elusive snitch. Alistair dove suddenly, his sudden burst of speed catching my attention as well as the attention of the other seeker who shadowed his movements. I watched as he nosedived towards the ground. My heart felt like it was pulling into my chest the closer he got to the ground.

Pull up. Pull up. Pull up, I pleaded internally as the distance between Alistair and the ground shrunk even further. He pulled up suddenly and the other seeker, taken by surprise was unable to and was left to plummet to the ground.

I slumped against my seat. Bloody wronski feint.

The opponent seeker was on his broom again, flying towards the sky. Merlin, quidditch players certainly weren't human. They were probably made up of something completely different to the rest of us. Or maybe they were all just masochists.

Suddenly the crowd let out an almighty gasp and I looked around in surprise, especially when I realised that Campbell was out of his seat, peering over the railings. The blood fled out of his face, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had and I peered curiously down into the pitch. I gasped, heart stopping for a moment before it started to pump mildly in my chest.

When had he fallen off of his broom and why the hell wasn't he moving?

The captain called for a time out and I hurried onto the pitch, my emergency medical kit flying after me. Kneeling beside Roger's unmoving form, I swallowed deeply and fumbled to open the kit. A hand was set on top of my trembling one and I glanced up, seeing that Campbell had walked down with me.

"Calm down," he ordered firmly, but kindly, "If you panic here, then we're done for."

"You're right," I took a deep breath, "You're right."

Going through the procedures in my head, I checked for a pulse and checked his airways. When I knew that both were alright, I looked him over for any visibly signs of injury. Pulling my wand out from my pocket, I pressed it to his temple.

"Rennervate."

Nothing happened. Why wasn't anything happening? He wasn't responsive and the realisation made me start to shake again. I forced myself to power through it, even as tears clouded my vision.

"Rennervate," I tried again, my voice cracking half way through the word.

Tears slipped down my face and I did nothing to wipe them away as I cast a diagnostic spell on him. Before I could finish reciting the spell, he sat up suddenly, looking right as rain and kissed me. There was an audibly relieved sigh from the crowd followed my exclamations of surprise.

My own muddled mind took a good while longer to process what had happened and when I realised that he was alright, he was awake and breathing, I let my tears fall freely. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I processed that Roger had done it on purpose, he had faked it all, and I was choosing my way to kill him but for now I returned the kiss, my relief obvious.

He pulled away with a chuckle, setting his forehead on mine. "Try and hide it from the reporters now."

My mouth parted in shock and I pounded on his chest. I was on the verge of crying again – this time in sheer relief. "You utter piece of crap, you dick-faced twat. You – you flobberworm, how _dare_ you –"

He caught my wrists, stopping me from hitting him anymore. Wincing slightly, he muttered, "That hurts you know." His voice trailed off, seeing my tears for the first time and he looked genuinely apologetic. Good, he _should_ feel apologetic. "I didn't think you'd cry."

"You didn't think at all you bloody asshole."

He sighed, dropping my wrists and wiping my tears away before taking me in his arms. "You know tears are my weakness."

The team stood around awkwardly, watching as Roger calmed me down with gentle words, all while I kept cursing at him and hitting his chest.


	2. Epilogue

_4 YEARS LATER_

My time with the Montrose Magpies had come to an end. I had been interviewed for a senior position at St. Mungo's and had accepted the job once it had been offered to me. There were mixed reactions to my change of job. Most of the team were happy for me, some of them were upset that I was leaving and Roger, from the moment I had told him, had started to pout. His reaction had taken me by surprise, but then again, I _had_ forgotten how clingy he could be.

"Are you _still_ pouting?" I asked with a roll of my eyes as I walked out of the bedroom, fixing my earrings. My eyes landed on the man who was sat in the front room, waiting for me. He greeted me with silence. "Merlin, Roger, it's been over a month since I told you. Are you going to keep acting like a child?"

"I'm not acting like a child," he protested as he rose to his feet, approaching me.

"That's what _you_ think," I shot back before looking him over from head to toe. "Now, we're going to Alistair's to have a nice, small meal together. Are you going to behave or am I going to have to scold you like you're a moody teenager again, when we get home?"

"I'll be on my best behaviour," he said sarcastically and I patted his cheek.

"Good." Outstretching a hand for me to take, Roger pulled me into his side as he apparated us into Alistair's apartment.

Before I could reorientation myself and get a good look at my surroundings, the entire quidditch team filed out of the kitchen, taking me by surprise. They approached us quickly, pushing Roger aside and I found myself in the centre of a big group hug. Over the shoulders of the burly quidditch players, I met Roger's eyes and silently tried to get my confusion across to him.

He grinned in reply, "They all wanted to have one last get together."

"Merlin," I complained even as I couldn't stop smiling, "You're all acting as if I'm moving across the country."

They finally pulled away and I found myself face to face with the team captain who was pretending to frown at me, "Well you're the one that decided to only say goodbye to Alistair."

"Hey," I protested, gesturing to said blond haired seeker. " _He's_ the one that told me he wanted to introduce his new boyfriend to me. You all know that whenever he starts dating someone he introduces them to me so I can see whether they're worth him."

"Well you already know who my boyfriend is," Alistair said in my ear as the team split off to talk.

I looked up at him curiously, "Who?"

He gestured with his head towards one of the team and my mouth dropped slightly when I realised who he was pointing to. "Him?"

"Simons? Really?" He chuckled at the sight of my incredulous expression. Simons, who had been talking to Roger, felt the weight of our stare and glanced curiously over at us. Realising that we were talking about him, he threw a quick wink at Alistair before turning back to talk to Roger. Alistair grew red under my eyes, "And to think, all the times you told me he wasn't your type."

"Because he isn't," he insisted, voice growing quiet as Simons gestured towards us and together he and Roger approached us. "But you can't tell him that."

"I think he already knows," I pointed out but said nothing else.

Once they reached us the pair split us up, Roger wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me towards him. I pretended not to see the way Simons slipped his hand into the back pocket of Alistair's jeans but couldn't help it. My eyes narrowed.

"Charles Simons," I warned, "If you taint Alistair in any way or hurt him –"

"Alistair isn't as innocent as you think," Roger whispered into my ear and I promptly ignored him.

"You know he's like my adopted child," I threw back at him before looking back to Charles who was looking incredibly amused. "You might think I'm not capable of doing anything but I swear to Rowena, if you hurt him in anyway then I'll have your balls."

"Yes ma'am," he said through chuckles as he turned to whisper something into Alistair's ear.

To give the couple some privacy, I led Roger away from them and went to get a drink. My eyes scanned the room, looking at the quidditch players, all of them – the first team, the reserve team and the now retired players – who had all been treated by me at least once in my last 5 years working for the team. Merlin, I was going to miss them all.

"Did we manage to take you by surprise then?" Roger asked with raised eyebrows. "I like to think my acting pulled it off."

"Your acting?" I took a sip of my drink and winced; who was letting Kim mix the drinks. The woman was a menace around drinks. Roger swapped my cup out for another one. "You mean your very real pouting?"

"That was all acting."

"Are you sure?" Raising an eyebrow, I took a sip of my drink. It was much better.

"Ok, so maybe the first week or so was real pouting but the rest was fake."

"If you say so."

"Can you blame me? Now I can't fake an injury to come and see you anymore."

"Good." Narrowing my eyes playfully, I added, "Don't even try and come to the hospital by faking an injury. If you do then I'm going to hex you into pieces."

He frowned, "I think it's obvious which of us loves the other more."

Stepping forward to kiss the frown from his lips, I pulled away with a sigh, "I still don't understand why you do it anymore? We _live_ together Roger – you see me every day." I shrugged my shoulders, "Besides, I think you'll like my replacement."

"You know who it is?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"You're joking."


End file.
